


Love Heals

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, M/M, Magical Healing Cuddles, Multi, OT4, Polyamory, Polyamuary, Real Soft Boys, Tumblr: polyshipprompts, Wing Grooming, Wings, post-Lusankya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 05:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: When Tycho returns after Lusankya, his wings are in terrible shape, but his flockmates are determined to fix that.





	Love Heals

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by Polyshipprompts's Polyamuary [day twenty-nine prompt](http://polyshipprompts.tumblr.com/post/141027223253/wing-au-where-people-dont-start-growing-their), mostly the last bit.

When Tycho returns from Lusankya and Akrit'tar, his wings are a mess. Matted. Dirty. Feathers pulled out or twisted this way and that. Old and broken ones not removed. It's been forever since they've been groomed.

Even after he's taken in for debriefing, things aren't back to normal. He's finally able to bathe and brush them, but he can only reach so much of the tawny appendages himself. And, of course, it's unthinkable for someone besides his flockmates to help him. And he doesn't know when he'll be able to see them.

His wings are weak, too, having been kept forcibly strapped down during most of the time he was captivity. He never flew much before, not outside his X-wing anyway, but he always kept them in shape. He's always been good at taking care of his body. But this was one of the ways Isard and her henchmen tortured him. That first night in the NRI refresher when he'd finally been able to cut them free, ready to stretch them out until the tips pressed against the walls of the tiny room, he hadn't gotten them more than halfway unfurled before he'd cried out, breath torn from him in pain as the shriveled muscles protested.

But things will be better now. After weeks of intense debriefings, of pointed questions that barely escaped being accusations, of being told to his face how dangerous he could be, NRI has found nothing to substantiate these claims. They're not done with him yet, but they're finally letting him leave their permanent custody. As long as he doesn't leave Hanna City and doesn't touch the tracking anklet they've fitted him with and returns whenever they call, he gets to go home.

Home, for the moment, is a small hotel room with a big bed and Wedge, Wes, and Hobbie near him. After his flockmates had taken him to dinner and to buy the things he'll need now that he's free, showering him in treats and affection the entire time, they brought him back here ready to really take care of him.

Now, Tycho lays on his stomach on the bed, head pillowed in Wedge's lap as Wedge gently plays with his hair. Hobbie and Wes kneel on either side of Tycho, his wings spread out across their laps. Wes is running his fingers carefully along Tycho's left wing, checking each individual feather with a fierce concentration, straightening those that are misaligned, apologetically plucking those too damaged to be helped. Hobbie is on Tycho's right and hasn't been able to do anything yet but simply run his hands along Tycho's wing, the tips of his own blond wings brushing Tycho's feathers, simple touch shakily reassuring both of them.

Tycho can't blame him. Just being with them again is such a relief he could cry. Did a little at first, actually, but they'd tenderly brushed the tears away with kisses and promises of how he's going to be so much better now that they've got him again.

Tycho knows they're right, and it feels so, so good. It's how wings work. The body feeds on the affection of one's flock, making the wings grow bigger and stronger. It's why they shriveled when Tycho was away, and why they're already starting to feel better now. A physical manifestation of his love for these men and theirs for him.

There's a slight twinge from low on his left wing a moment before Wes says, “This one's gotta go, too. Sorry, Tych.”

Wedge's hands halt in his hair as he leans in to murmur, “You ready?”

Tycho rouses himself enough from his calm stupor to murmur assent and nuzzles closer to Wedge. Having a damaged feather pulled doesn't hurt that much, but it doesn't feel great either.

“Three, two, one,” Wes counts down, and yanks the feather right before he says _one_ and Tycho can tense against it. His lips brush against the spot. “That's better.”

“Thanks,” Tycho slurs. The pain already gone, he's close to sleep, the warmth and comfort surrounding him lulling him toward what could be the first real rest he's gotten in months.

“Hobbs, you actually gonna get to work over there or what?” Wes teases lightly, and Hobbie mumbles something Tycho doesn't catch as he does.

Something soft brushes Tycho's cheek, and his eyes flutter open to see Wedge caressing him with his wingtips as well as his fingers, matte black feathers gentle against his face.

“Sorry,” Wedge murmurs when he catches Tycho looking. He forcibly folds his wings behind his back again. “I just...can't stop thinking that you're really here. We were all so afraid we'd never see you again.”

“I'm here,” Tycho answers, catching one of Wedge's hands and squeezing lightly. “And I'm glad you all are. It's so good to be with you again.”

“We're not letting you out of our sight for a long time,” Hobbie declares as his fingers unerringly straighten a rough patch of feathers.

Wes taps Tycho's ankle monitor. “Maybe get you one of these of our own.”

Tycho chuckles and settles against Wedge again. The jokes make everything feel more normal. He can almost forget...

“Hey.” Tycho blinks his eyes open, and it's Wes looking down at him, a soft smile on his face. “You fell asleep on us there. We're all done here for now. You look much better.”

Tycho stretches slightly, working the muscles that attach his wings to his back and fluttering them slightly. “Mmm. Feels better too.”

“If you're ready for bed,” Hobbie adds from his other side, “we could all lay down.”

Tycho agrees, and soon they're all dressed in warm pajamas, and then the other three are bickering mildly over sleeping arrangements: the bed is big enough for all of them, but who gets to lay beside Tycho, and who has to be on the outside? Finally Hobbie reasons that Wedge already got to hold him while the others groomed his wings, and Wedge can't argue, so Tycho ends up warm and snug between Wes and Hobbie with Wedge behind Hobbie, one arm and wing stretched across him so he can still be in contact with Tycho.

Tycho smiles tiredly as arms and wings wrap around him from every side. Brown and black and iridescent and blond feathers melt together and cover all of them in softness and warmth, the closest they've come to actually nesting in he can't remember how long.

And then come the _I love you_ s. Each of them in turn, softly murmured in Tycho's ear or pressed into his skin. He knows it, of course he does, but hearing it like this...it drags up the tears again, loosened in his chest just from the warmth and safety of this moment.

They let him cry this time, seeming to understand, just holding him close and letting it all soak in. Before he knows it, he's slipped into sleep again.

 

Tycho wakes to the room still dark, surrounded by the quiet, even breathing of his flockmates. He’s trying to determine what disturbed him when Wes shifts under his arm and murmurs sleepily, “Something wrong?”

A twinge runs down Tycho’s back, and he realizes. “I’m okay. Growing pains.”

Wes raises his head to look at him, just a silhouette in the dark. “Need a pain patch?” he asks, more awake now. “I brought some.”

Tycho chuckles softly, trying not to wake the others. “You were pretty confident you’d fix things that fast, huh?”

“Never doubted it.” Wes’s voice is solemn as his fingers brush Tycho’s cheek. “I still remember what you looked like when you first came back. How much I wanted my hands on you then.”

“It's all right. You're here now.” Tycho shifts slightly, resting his head on Wes's shoulder. The aches in his back and all up and down his wings from the overnight growth spurt aren't pleasant, but he knows it will feel better by morning, and then his wings will be well on their way to being entirely healthy again.

“That pain patch?” Wes asks again as Tycho twitches at a particularly sharp sensation.

He shakes his head. “I'm okay, really. I don't want to bother the others.”

“Bother?” comes a sleepy echo from behind him, and Tycho winces. “What's going on?”

“Tycho's having growing pains,” Wes tells Hobbie, sounding just a little proud.

“Hmm.” Hobbie's hand rests warm and solid on Tycho's back, right between his wing joints, and rubs firmly.

Tycho groans. “Oh. That feels good.” Wes joins in, and Tycho lets his eyes flutter closed as the pleasant sensations quickly chase away the pain. They keep at it, and Tycho relaxes under them, little by little letting the comfort ease him back to sleep.

 

Tycho wakes in the morning feeling eyes on him and opens his own to three grinning faces.

“Finally back in the land of the living?” Hobbie says brightly.

“Get up!” Wes insists. “Let's see what they look like for real!”

“Give him a minute to actually be awake,” Wedge chastises mildly.

It takes Tycho a minute to become fully conscious and gather his wits about him, and then he realizes what his flockmates want. He makes to sit up, Wedge immediately catching his arm to help him, and kneels on the bed. Then, he spreads his wings.

A trio of appreciative sounds greets the appearance, and Tycho grins too as he stretches to fill the room, his muscles strong and steady again. He can feel the slight itch of new growth, too; in a few days' time, he'll have all his feathers again.

“You're beautiful,” Wedge tells him, eyes sparkling. He reaches out to run a hand across Tycho's feathers – shiny now when yesterday they were dull – and he pulls him in for a kiss.

“Much, _much_ better,” Wes says with satisfaction as he pulls Tycho away from Wedge and claims his lips for his own. “I knew we could o it.”

“I never want to see you looking like that again,” Hobbie says quietly, then takes his turn.

“As long as I have you three, I never have to worry,” Tycho says, and his voice doesn't wobble this time.

“Sooo,” Wes says in too innocent a tone. His hands inch around to Tycho's back, sliding up into the sensitive down underneath his wings and making Tycho shiver. “Maybe now that you feel better and have gotten some rest, we do something...else?”

“Absolutely,” Tycho agrees, jerking him back into another kiss, giving everything he can. His flockmates aren't done touching and reclaiming him yet.


End file.
